


Pray for Me

by ThereminVox



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 15:26:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15665979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereminVox/pseuds/ThereminVox
Summary: The time is coming, a bed of flamesYour life is over, and you're to blameHoping, and scolding, revoltingPeel it back, reveal the scarLoathing, exploding, controllingThis is what you really are





	Pray for Me

 

 

Wan shroud of welkin signified recurring reign of dusk as John and Jacob reach the entrance of the Compound’s central church.

 

Upon hushed entry, a familiar lilt of crescendo greets their jaded ears. Revering notes of Amazing Grace fill the empty spaces of sound, accented by warm, amber rays refracting through each window, outshone only by etched fringe of sacred logo radiating eminence at the foremost wall of the building. Illuminating this forefront stood a lone figure, bare torso swathed in ebbing beams, arms bent at the elbows and raised, with rosary ornament dangling as a pendulum from the right wrist.

 

Paralleled in divided shadow, nestled between taut shoulder blades, illustrated a darkened image of presiding sanctity.

 

The two men approach, cautious yet concentrated, aiming to stop a few feet before the raised bit of flooring. John was hesitant to break the otherwise enduring silence, looking to the taller man beside him for a brief moment of reflexive assurance before shifting stance to an ailing display of confidence.

 

“Joseph… what if… what if ‘The Voice’ isn’t what it seems?”

 

If the stillness hadn’t been dismaying before, it sought to emerge as a subdued telling of ire. The figure emanates belated sighs of distress, unspoken through abiding quiet as his head and arms concede to lower in listless reluctance.

 

“ _Jacob_. As you should know, I have always respected your lack of faith in our cause. There is vacillation in your reception towards The Project. The God I worship. I see you bear favor to our baby brother. However, in spite of this petty intimation towards sibling rivalry, I would prefer you not sway him from judgment.”

 

“Oh I can promise you this isn’t my doing. Our dear brother did some reflecting on his own and finally came to his senses.”

 

Joseph is languid in movement, weary edge of spirit evident in the steady yet slow turn of his lax body.

 

“ _You’re_ either _with_ me _._ Or _against_ me.”

 

“Why are those the only options? If my time in the Army showed me anything, it’s that our time on this hurdling space rock is limited. I’m not doubting your imaginary friendship. The world’s comin’ to an end either way. There _is_ no choosing sides when our fates are intertwined.”

 

“Then _why_ are you here? After everything we’ve been through, I am not so foolish as to ignore the obvious. What do you hope to gain from this fruitless exchange?”

 

“Have you stopped to think that just maybe all our endeavors have been in vain?”, John interjects solemnly. He wasn’t particularly pleased with the rancored energy dispersing among them. His elder brother was determined in condemning others for inexorable sins. If his assertion of the Deputy being a reflection of _his_ true sin proved right, who was to say the man in question was not projecting of his own collective embodiment? The gateway to all seven sins. And Joseph refused to acknowledge it.

 

Even if it deigned to bespeak in this pressing moment.

 

Joseph moves to relinquish his position on the stage, stepping down with strides of instinctive elegance as he closes the distance between them. John offers a dejected glance, heart fluttering as he recognizes the gesture of his rising hands. Without a second thought he backs away from his advancing embrace. If their foreheads had touched once more in that weary practice of deference, John wasn’t sure he’d be able to persevere with the following proposal.

 

“….You _dare_ deny me? My own _brother_ … Need I remind you, if it were not for _me_ , you would still be consumed by _Lust_ and _Greed. I_ am the one who has saved you from yourself. _Both of you._ ”

 

His words are progressive in their malice. Controlled, yet terse in delivery, narrowed eyes darting between them both, until settling to pace ahead of their static forms, treading a few echoed steps to focus on the closed doubled doors.

 

“No Joseph”, John contends. “Your life has been riddled by privation and disdain. But, this isn’t a competition for cross carrying. Who’s responsible for funding the operations for _your_ Project, gathering _your_ flock, supplying the resources for these bunkers and crops? How could _I_ , the name who should be, but isn’t, credited for ensuring Eden’s Gates’ existence, be unworthy to enter?”

 

Joseph responds with a dismissing motion of folding each arm, staunch in his stolid position.

 

“You say my sin is Wrath…  
But we’ve never identified yours, have we?  
…Your _pride_ is turning a blind eye to your real family.“

 

A swift streak of Joseph’s heel against the floorboards has his incensed form stomping towards John. He was only spared two storming sweeps of the legs before the arresting outline of Jacob’s build has him halting in his tracks. They engage in a scrutinizing battle of fire and ice, Jacob’s gaze steadily impassive beneath relaxed brows as Joseph’s burned with a sudden strain of unbridled fury.

 

“Thought we buried Old Mad Seed years ago.  
Guess old demons never die.”

 

At that, Joseph’s eyes soften for just a margin, heaving erratic breaths and swallowing hard before deciding to back away. The brandishing welts on his rib cage unleash a numbing throb of phantom pains as his eyes meet John’s glassy stare.

 

“Nothing’s changed little brother”, Jacob rejoins, clasping a hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “But, what was that one scripture you were impassioned about during the first sermon?”

 

“An idle mind is the Devil’s workshop”, John finishes.

 

“That’s it”, Jacob sighs while dropping his grip.

 

Joseph remains lost in thought as he replies in a distant tone.

 

“The Voice… has been the Antichrist all this time?”

 

Jacob turns and beckons John forth with a flick of his head.

 

“We’re not declaring it as truth, but it wouldn’t hurt to question. Like John said, your… _sin_ ”, he utters the word as if it were a foreign tongue, “is Pride.”

 

Something undefined sparks in Joseph’s mind, briefly oblivious to the shuffling pairs of feet straying further away.

 

The two brothers were inches away from departing but not before being urged stay by a surprisingly vulnerable sway of voice.

 

“Jacob… I know the concept is strange to you. Because of that, I’d have reason to believe you the best choice in this… final request.”

 

Jacob couldn’t ignore the faint forming of goosebumps along the bare back of his head at the word ‘final’.

 

“…And what would that request be?”

 

 

 

“ _Pray for me_.”


End file.
